


Care

by venDi



Series: 2/5/4 [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Blood and Injury, Bottom Number Five | The Boy, Crying, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Fear, First Aid, Fluff and Angst, Gentle Sex, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Kissing, Klaus Hargreeves Has A Big Dick, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Praise Kink, Prostate Massage, Pseudo-Incest, Rape Aftermath, Sequel, Sibling Incest, Size Difference, Size Kink, Top Klaus Hargreeves, Unintentional Prostate Massage, Vomiting, Wounds, just a little bit, sequel fic, soft, trust me it makes sense in the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25948174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venDi/pseuds/venDi
Summary: “Five,” Klaus’ voice is breathy and low as he speaks.“--Diego said when he left you you were fine--”Diego said.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Klaus Hargreeves, Past Diego/Five
Series: 2/5/4 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883281
Comments: 13
Kudos: 313





	Care

Five doesn’t bother going in through the front door; his clothes are sullied and stained, come, blood, dirt and rain water covering him. His face is bloodied and rubbed raw, there’s likely an open wound on the line of his scalp from when Diego had slammed him into the wall.

He doesn’t want to risk anyone seeing him like this -- Five doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’d been left in that alley, so he can’t guess if his siblings are going to be up and about the Hargreeves’ mansion. For all he knows everyone is either in bed or back in their own respective homes. 

He can’t take the risk, though.

Five uses his abilities and jumps to the second story, landing in the dark hallway that leads to each of their rooms. The moment he materializes, Five crouches down and jerkinly takes stock of his surroundings; the lights are out, and all the bedroom doors are closed. No light trickles out from beneath the doors, and he can hear no footsteps or hushed voices talking. 

Seemingly deserted, he wastes no time moving to his bedroom, shutting the door softly behind him with practiced ease. With jerking, shaking movements Five steps back and sucks in a steadying breath. 

He stares at the door and waits. Strains his ears, listening intently for the slightest sound, something that tells him someone has noticed him coming in. Nothing comes; no creak of a floorboard, no sharp shout or call of his name, he hears nothing but his own shallow, labored breathing. 

He’s alone.

For real.

“Gh,” Five chokes on whatever noise tries to leave him, his hands twitching at his sides. Tingling, itching sensation spreads over his arms, his legs, his entire body as he stands there staring at the door. 

When he shifts he can feel dried blood and come cracking, flaking off from his upper thighs and ass; the cold dampness of his stained briefs against his ass nauseating. He drags a clawing hand and rips his suit jacket off, grunting as he tosses it across the room. The sweater vest and shirt come next, Five pulling them off with far more force than necessary; he hears a button or two pop as he goes. 

He doesn’t care. He always has more clothes. He can always  _ get  _ more clothes. Who cares if these are ruined? 

The shorts and underwear come off in one smooth motion -- _ Diego’s hand hooks in his waistline, slipping into the tight strip of elastic that holds his boxers in place  _ \-- and Five howls, weak and pained. His left hand covers his mouth halfway through the noise, muffling himself, as his right fists in his hair, against his forehead as he cries, high and strained. 

His shorts and underwear fall to the floor beneath him effortlessly, their threads worn bare and loose from how rough they’d been treated only hours before. 

_ “Fuck!”  _ Five hisses, as quietly as he can. He steps out of his clothes, toeing off his dress shoes as he goes. 

Every article of clothing left on him feels like a vice, wrapped around his throat, tightening and  _ tightening,  _ a sign tacked to his forehead telling the world what had been done to him. What he’d  _ allowed  _ to be done to him.

Diego probably told them. 

Five falls to his knees and retches, the contents of his stomach emptying on the floor at his feet as tears stream down his face freely. His small body shakes and foulds in on itself when he’s finally done dry heaving, and he wraps his arms around himself, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders. 

His lower back aches, low and deep, like something had ripped him apart from the inside. Because something --  _ someone  _ \-- had. Five can still feel the urgent press of Diego’s cock, slipping over his ass, trailing a line of pre-come in its wake. 

Can feel the shape of it as it pushed inside, forced inside Five as he gagged and screamed, clawed at the wall to get away. 

He can still hear Diego chuckling next to his ear.

The creak of his door is like a gunshot echoing in the small room; “Hey, Five, are you back yet, I wanna ask you--” 

Five freezes, his blood running ice cold and his mind blanking as he hears Klaus’ voice filter into his ears; his voice is at once both grating and soothing, like an unholy mixing of emotions that Five can’t even begin to decipher. 

He can’t bear to turn his head up and look at Klaus, but his body acts on its own accord as his eyes trail up towards him; he follows the line of Klaus’ long legs, up past his exposed midriff, until finally landing on his horror stricken face. 

Five wants to scream again. 

Shame, hot and violent, swirls in his chest; too akin to when he’d been caught masturbating, years and years ago. The same kind of embarrassment, shame,  _ guilt  _ fills him as it had then. 

  
  


It’s his own fault, really; all of this is his own fault. He needs to stop getting his family to help, stop getting them involved in things like this. Needs to be more careful, more cautious; none of this would have happened if he’d just left them all alone--

_ “This is your fault. You made me do this, Five, so you don’t have anyone to blame but yourself.” _

“Sh--” Five starts, tries to speak; his voice gets stuck in his throat next to the nausea that is swelling again, and he has to swallow it down. 

He sniffles, tucking his arms against his chest, still holding onto his shoulders. He straightens -- or, tries to, but he hisses as his back strains from the movement, aching. Too sore to bend fully up; his body trembles still, as well, like a leaf. Five locks his jaw, lifts his head with some semblance of dignity, and offers Klaus a lopsided, wavering smile that feels as fake as the rest of him.

“Should have locked the door,” Five laughs, dryly. 

Klaus’ eyes widen, his mouth falling agape, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, in the doorway, letting a small amount of light from the overhang of the balcony filter into the room and cast Five in an ominous orange glow. Five can’t decide if it’d be better if Klaus was talking nonstop, or yelling, or  _ laughing,  _ anything other than him standing there dead silent. 

And then -- there’s a shift in Klaus’ face. Something like recognition, too close to familiarity for comfort. Klaus hastily glances behind himself, into the hallway, before stepping forwards and shutting the door behind him. Five can’t stand staring at him any longer and his eyes flee to the floor, chewing on the inside of his lip to give himself something to do.

Klaus doesn’t turn on the light, and he doesn’t come any closer than the foot of the door, which Five is grateful for. He isn’t sure if he can handle Klaus forcing his way into his space, right now. And he most definitely doesn’t want to see his own pale, bruised legs. Klaus simply stands there, though, and Five can’t help but be grateful. 

Fabric crinkles as Klaus kneels down, either something leather or plastic. “It’s okay.” He says, his voice  _ so  _ soft that Five can’t help but look back up to him. 

Klaus is smiling, small and genuine -- Five recognizes it instantly from when they were younger, and can tell the sincerity behind his eyes if Five himself were blind. He extends his hand,  _ ‘Hello’  _ facing up; he doesn’t reach very far out, just opens himself up -- his body language -- for Five. Painting himself as honestly as he can.

“You’re safe with me.” 

And --

Five’s face crumples as a sob bubbles up out of his chest; he  _ aches,  _ so bodily it feels like he’s dying, his chest hurting in a way he could never describe in words. With jerky, pained movements, Five crawls forwards on his knees into Klaus’ embrace, his small hands bunching the fabric of his probably expensive, one of a kind shirt. 

“Oh,  _ Five,”  _ Klaus weakly says, and his arms encircle Five without hesitation or disgust, pulling him close. “Five, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Five falls into the hold without a second thought; something about this -- about it being  _ Klaus  _ trying to comfort him makes it hard for Five to resist, and if he’s being honest with himself he really doesn’t want to fight it. 

Because it feels  _ nice  _ to be held like this; the memory of the rough hold Diego had on his hips, the way he’d slammed Five’s face into the wall, they’re fresh in his mind and he grips Klaus’ shirt just a little bit tighter and buries his face in his collar. 

One of Klaus’ hands slips below him -- carefully, avoiding his ass and moving just below, at the tops of his thighs -- and he lifts, pulling Five up into his arms in one smooth motion. Five’s legs fall into place around Klaus’ waist as he rests against his chest, the arm beneath him holding probably more weight than is comfortable. 

Even so, Klaus doesn’t complain; he uses his spare hand to hold the back of Five’s head, his fingers threading gentle through his hair. He doesn’t clench his fist, or pull on him. Klaus just strokes his hair in comforting movements, shushing him. 

Five knows -- or, he  _ thinks,  _ hopes, really, that Klaus won’t hurt him. That Klaus isn’t going to throw him against the wall and take him, use him like Diego, take advantage of the vulnerability Five is allowing him to see. 

Five doesn’t think he can handle that again.

Klaus makes a little  _ ‘hup’  _ noise and hoists Five a little higher, the sound of the door opening the only indication that he’s being taken out of the room -- with his eyes closed and face pressed against Klaus’ chest it’s hard to notice the change in light. 

Five stiffens and shrinks, clawing at Klaus’ chest through his shirt. “No--” 

“Hey,” Klaus shushes, not unkind. “No one’s home, okay? No one can see you, you’re okay. But I gotta get you to the bathroom, we need to treat those wounds, little buddy.” 

Everyone else is out; Klaus and Five are alone in the massive, hollow shell of their dad's former home. 

Five nods and relaxes into Klaus’ hold, his fingers loosening, grip releasing from the bruising force he’d had just under Klaus’ collarbone. The hallway is, as Klaus said, quiet, and empty when they step out into it. The door sounds as Klaus shuts it behind him, and his long legs take them to the door of the bathroom in record time. 

The switch clicks, the sound of the door shutting, the bolt sliding closed as Klaus locks the door --  _ Five should have done that, earlier, how could he have been so stupid.  _ There’s the shuffling of fabric, too, that fills Five’s ears, and he doesn’t have time to try and decipher what Klaus is doing before he’s set down on the toilet seat.

Plush fabric of a towel beneath him gives away what Klaus had done; a folded towel, laid atop the lid of the toilet, cushions Five’s ass, and he only winces a fraction as his weight sinks down onto it. Another towel comes up and around him, Klaus draping it over his shoulders and wrapping him in it, bringing it closed in front of him. 

Giving Five some semblance of privacy.

Klaus steps back and smiles, but it doesn’t reach his cheeks. “There.” He says, spreading his hands like he’s presenting a prize. “You sit tight, Fives, while I get you cleaned up.” 

Five swallows, nodding. “Okay.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, foreign to his own ears and he can’t stop himself as he flinches at hearing himself. 

Klaus doesn’t mention it -- he just throws open the cabinet under the sink and drags out an outlandishly sized first aid kit. He hefts the plastic case up onto the counter, unlatching the front and popping the lid; Five watches him silently, biting his tongue against each new wave of cold fear and pain that rattles his body. 

It doesn’t help -- the trembling is instinctual, like shivering from the cold, and he can no sooner stop it than drain the ocean. His fingers clench, hold white knuckled on the dark blue towel around his shoulders. 

Klaus approaches him and presses a damp whip to his forehead -- Five hisses and pulls away, antiseptic stinging as it seeps into the gash. Klaus mumbles a quiet  _ ‘sorry’,  _ bringing the wipe to him again. He’s gentler this time, pressing in smaller, shorter bursts as he wipes away the grit and blood. 

Five holds himself stiff, bites the inside of his cheek; everything inside his body is  _ howling  _ to get away, to shove Klaus down and run for the door. This pain is manageable, he hardly would bat an eye at it in any other situation. 

But it  _ stings  _ and pulls the memory of Diego dragging his head down the wall back into his head, and Five holds his breath. Watches Klaus with sharp eyes, keeping a line on each of his hands and where they’re going -- what they’re doing at any given moment. 

Klaus doesn’t seem to notice, or, if he does, he simply doesn’t care. His eyes are hard and focused, entirely encompassed by the task of cleaning Five up. He switches wipes and cleans the raw, torn skin on Five’s cheeks, making a soft hissing noise in sympathy as Five winces. 

Klaus applies some sort of cream to each of his face wounds in silence, dragging a large, square bandage out of the kit and taping it to Five’s cheek; he lines a set of three wound closure strips along Five’s forehead wound, getting it as close to closed as he can. 

“You’re good at this,” Five croaks out, twitching once more as he hears his own voice; it’s raw from all the screaming he’d done, probably. 

Klaus huffs a small laugh and puts the box of wound closure strips back in the first aid kit; “That’s just cause I’ve had a lot of practice. Mom didn’t really always have time to help everyone when we got hurt, so I sort of defaulted to it. Ended up coming in handy after finding strange cuts and bruises on myself after a… rough night.” 

Klaus turns to him, now, his hands hovering half in and out of the first aid kit. His expression is conflicted, pinched, and Five knows without knowing what he’s going to say. His face pales, fingers tightening again in the towel as he tugs it tighter around himself.

“Five,” Klaus’ voice is breathy and low as he speaks. “It’s okay if you… can’t tell me right now. But I just--”

His face pinches again and Five swears he sees tears pricking the corner of Klaus’ eyes; Five shrinks away from it, pulls his legs up and rests his feet against the cold edge of the toilet. 

“--Diego said when he left you you were fine--” 

_ Diego said. _

“Is that it?!” Five shouts, cutting Klaus off abruptly. “That’s all he said, right? That I was fine?” 

Five refuses to look at Klaus, but he can guess the expression he’s making; mouth slightly parted, his hands curled as they hover half way to his chest and the counter. He can also imagine Diego coming in, laughing, telling them of how he put Five in his place. 

Taught him a lesson.

Klaus makes a small noise and Five hears him shut the kit with a click. “I mean, yeah? He came in having a bit of a fit, mentioned some kind of attack, but that you guys were okay. He left pretty soon after; probably to go bother some poor old lady until she lets him help her across the street.” 

Diego hadn’t… told them. 

A giggle that breaks and turns into a sob bubbles up out of Five’s throat, his hand pressing against his unwounded cheek. “Of course, he wouldn’t tell you. That’s silly.” 

Why would he? He can just hold the information over Five’s head, a threat, for anything he wanted Five to do for him. He’d keep the secret. For a price. 

It was worth more as a secret. 

“Hey,” Klaus’ hand suddenly is on Five’s shoulder, making him yelp and jerk away. Klaus looks stricken and pulls away, his hands raising -- apology and retreat wrapped up into one. 

“Sorry.” He sets his hands on his thighs as he kneels in front of Five once more. “I just need you to stand up so I can look for more cuts. If you think you can do that.” 

His back still aches, his legs feeling weak and wobbly, but despite himself Five nods; logically, he knows Klaus is right. If they don’t take care of this now he’s going to end up with an infection -- something he really doesn’t want to deal with right now. 

So he lets Klaus help him up, Five sliding off the toilet lid slowly, trying his best not to hurt himself further. He can’t mitigate the entirety of the pain, but it does help, a bit. His socked feet land on the cool tile floor, but his legs don’t hold his weight -- Five grunts as his knees buckle, his hand snapping forwards to grip Klaus’ shoulder for balance. 

Klaus tries to help by placing his hand on Five’s ass -- probably he was aiming for his back, or just frantically trying to catch him. The pain the contact draws has Five howling and going nearly limp, falling forwards, trying to get away from the pressure. 

“Shit,” Klaus hisses and his hand instantly retreats, fleeing to Five’s shoulder to brace him instead. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Five. I didn’t realize you--” 

He thankfully cuts himself off with a swallow, buying time for Five to get his legs under himself. 

“Can… Can you turn around? So I can see how bad you’re hurt?” Klaus asks him, his voice thick with regret. 

Five gets it; he understands the hesitance to look, to see what’s wrong with him. Then it becomes real, then Klaus has to come to terms with the fact that Five has been--

“Sure,” Five grits out, letting Klaus’ shoulder go as he stands to his full height. He turns slowly until his back is facing Klaus. 

Five takes a moment to get his balance, to steel himself with a sharp intake of breath for what he’s about to do, before he drops the towel from around his shoulders. The reaction from Klaus is instantaneous; a violent hiss, his hands coming to hold protectively around Five’s waist, just above the jut of his hip bones. 

Though Five doesn’t know what he sees -- what he looks like right now -- he can guess from how crusty his backside feels, from the flakes of blood and come that fall off with each shift of his legs. Klaus’ breath stings as it ghosts over his ass and Five flinches, rocking forwards away from it. 

“Okay.” Klaus says -- his voice is harder now, something edging the line of anger dripping from each syllable. “Okay. Let’s get you in the bath, Fives, yeah? I’ll clean you up.” 

Five has only just nodded agreement -- a bath sounds good, probably would feel amazing on his back -- before Klaus is gently pulling his socks off his feet. Obediently Five steps out of them in order, holding onto Klaus’ arm for balance as he does so. He’s ushered over to the edge of the tub, and Five hears behind him the soft rustle of fabric.

Then the  _ oh-so  _ familiar sound of a belt buckle being unlatched fills his ears and Five’s mind blanks for a moment.

It takes him only as long as a breath to recover, and Five instantly uses his powers and jumps -- but he’s weak, and exhausted, his power only managing to get him the few steps he could have taken on his own into the bathtub. He falls to his knees facing Klaus and scrambles futilely against the slick porcelain surface. 

Above him Klaus looks confused; his shirt is off, strewn on the floor beside the discarded socks and towel, and his fingers are on his belt. It’s open, his fly partially undone, and Five chokes on his own sob as he draws his legs up protectively to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees. 

“Please don’t, not again,” Five hiccups, his eyes flitting between the belt and Klaus’ stricken face. “You don’t have to--”

“Five,” Klaus interrupts, voice urgent and kind, his arms going limp at his sides. “I’m not going to do that to you. Really, _ I’m not _ I -- I just need to get in the tub with you to clean you, I didn’t want to ruin my pants. They’re real leather.” 

His voice is sad and genuine, his brows furrowed in pity; still, Five doesn’t know if he can trust him, not fully,  _ not yet.  _

“You promise?” Five asks. His voice sounds so small and pathetic to his own ears. He doesn’t remember ever trusting someone’s promise before, trusting their word. 

He isn’t really sure what makes him inclined to trust it now. But, when Klaus says; “Pinky promise.” Five can’t help but believe him. 

This time, when Klaus messes with his belt and pulls it from the loops of his leather pants, Five doesn’t flinch or jump away. He still watches him closely; Klaus drops his pants to the floor, leaving himself in only his white boxer-briefs, the long expanse of his legs bare now as he takes a small -- for  _ him  _ \-- step towards the tub. 

Klaus pauses there, watching Five, waiting for something; permission, Five supposes, and he nods for Klaus to come closer. He joins Five in the tub, not mentioning anything about the way Five immediately crawls to the front of the bath, towards the facet, while Klaus kneels at the back. 

He also doesn’t say anything as Five flattens against the side of the wall, his back pressing against it uncomfortably while Klaus reaches forwards and plugs the drain. He pulls the knob, twisting it to what he deems the right temperature; the sound of the water gushing from the facet is overbearing and yet, somehow, comforting, whipping away the uncomfortable silence in the room.

Klaus retreats to the back of the tub, going back as far as his lanky body in the short tub can. He rests his arms on the sides of the bath, his legs opening enough to allow a space big enough for Five to fit between them. The bath water splashes against Five’s feet and ankles, droplets reaching up to his chest as the water pressure forces it out. 

“Come here?” Klaus asks, tone imploring and unpleasantly convincing, his hands beckoning for Five to move towards him. 

Five hesitates only a moment before crawling to him, fitting himself between Klaus’ open legs; Klaus puts a gentle hand on his shoulder and turns him around until Five’s back is to him. He pulls Five back and brings their bodies together, Klaus’ chest flush against Five’s back. His hands encircle Five once more, protective, draping over Five’s shoulders and holding him close.

“There,” Klaus says, softly, his head resting atop Five’s own. “See? That’s better. Just relax.” 

The water rises higher and higher, and each inch lulls Five closer into a sense of security -- in no small part aided by the weight of Klaus holding him, loosely, in a way that Five could pull out of at any point, if he was so inclined.

Not like the forceful hold of Diego, his hands tight and clawing against his hips, holding him in place as he fucked up into Five’s small body--

Five presses back against Klaus, a small, pained noise slipping from his lips against his own accord. Klaus simply hushes him, his fingers stroking over Five’s shoulders in small circles. Klaus holds him until Five finally relaxes back against him, and only then does he move. 

He lifts his leg and stretches out -- hardly having to really strain -- until his foot bumps the knob. He pushes it back in, shutting the water off with a hum, letting his leg sink back beneath the water.

Klaus still has his underwear on, and Five can’t imagine how uncomfortable that must be to soak in a bathtub with. Still, Klaus doesn’t complain; he hardly makes any noises at all as he holds Five. Just the soft sounds of his breath and the occasional slosh of water as one of them shifts. 

Five isn’t tired in the conventional sense, exhaustion striking his body weak but fear and adrenaline keeping him wide awake, eyes wide. He manages to let his eyes slip half lidded, though, as he stares unseeing at the opposite wall from him. 

He’s pulled out of it as Klaus moves again, this time reaching up with his arms. He grabs a loofah and a bottle of body wash, dipping the scrub beneath the water to dampen it. He squeezes it out and pours a hefty amount of soap on top of it, returning the soap to it’s spot in the wall. 

Klaus uses both hands to work the soap into the loofah until white foam falls from it and into the tub in heavy globs. He finally brings it to Five and presses it, stroking gently along Five’s knee, testing the waters. 

Five can’t help but jump at the contact, but he doesn’t pull away or shove Klaus’ hand away; the pressure doesn’t hurt, and the soap leaves clean streaks in the dark, mud stained skin of his knees. He watches as Klaus cleans him, first his knees, then his chest and arms; Klaus brings the loofah up and rubs gently at his neck, but never gets too close to his face. 

The soothing ministrations only stop once Klaus has covered every inch of Five’s body above the water; all that’s left now is what’s beneath, where he’s stained and torn and aching from how Diego had left him. 

Five sucks in a pre-emptive breath, seconds before Klaus lets the loofah go, floating in the water as his hands sink below the water.

“I’m gonna clean down here now, Five, okay?” He tells him, his fingertips brushing the sides of Five’s ass. “It’s probably not gonna be super fun, but if I don’t you could get sick.” 

Five knows; of course he knows. He’s had shrapnel and bullets pulled out of him, had to bandage himself up with only a spare shirt and a bottle of fifteen percent cheap alcohol. He knows exactly how sick he can get if Klaus doesn’t do this.

That doesn’t really make him feel any better.

Still, he nods his consent --  _ something Diego hadn’t needed, nor wanted  _ \-- and he doesn’t pull away as Klaus’ fingers slip beneath the swell of his ass and lift him up. He pulls Five up into his lap, until almost all of him is out of the water -- all but his legs and ass, water sloshing against his hips. 

Five holds onto Klaus’ biceps for balance as Klaus lifts his legs, putting his knees just behind Five’s so he can rest his weight entirely on Klaus. His fingers find Five’s hole, and he presses with one finger against it, gentle but sure. 

The second it dips inside Five whines and digs his fingers into Klaus’ arms, burning pain sliding inside him along with Klaus’ finger. It’s far less than before, than he knows it could be, but it still hurts, and he squirms, trying to get away from it despite knowing better.

Klaus shushes him, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of his head. His fingers sink in deeper, prodding, before curling inside him and pulling out. Come and dried blood come out along with his finger, dispersing into the bathwater as Klaus shakes his hand off. 

He moves back, this time pushing two fingers into Five; they reach in, and Five cries softly again, the pain making him wince. 

“Ow,” He presses his chin into his own bicep, squinting down to where he can see Klaus’ hand disappearing beneath him. 

“Shh,” Klaus whispers, voice sweet and gentle as he pulls out again. “I know, I know.” 

Both fingers return, and this time the pain has lessened as Five becomes used to it again. Klaus’ fingers are long and thin, reaching deep into him, far deeper than Five would have suspected at first.  _ Deeper _ and deeper until --

_ “Ah!”  _ Five moans, twitching, as Klaus’ fingers brush up against his prostate. They retreat instantly, curling and pulling back out of him; Klaus no doubt knows what he’s done, Five knows he’s experienced enough to recognize it.

Klaus makes a noise and presses into him again; “Sorry.”

Five shakes his head minutely, closing his eyes to try and forget the feeling of Klaus’ fingers inside him -- it’s counter productive, when his fingers are actively inside him. 

Klaus is more careful this time, but he can’t entirely avoid brushing against his prostate -- Diego’s cock had been too big, too long, and Five is sure his come had filled him so fully that Klaus is going to take a while cleaning him out.

It’s wrong, and  _ awful,  _ Five has just come home from being raped by his brother, from being forced to come against his will; and, yet, he feels his cock twitch against his chest, struggling to hardness. His stomach tingles and Five’s toes curl, and he lets out a soft cry, horror rising anew -- but this time it’s aimed at himself.

“Sorry, sorry, did I hurt you?” Klaus asks, ignorant, shaking his hand off in the bath water again. 

He doesn’t know, hasn’t noticed Five’s cock at attention -- Klaus’ head is tucked into Five’s hair, his line of sight surly locked to their knees and down. Unless he moves, he won't see Five’s shame. 

“No,” Five refutes, careful, keeping his voice low in hopes of not sounding like he’s moaning. 

Klaus nods and presses his fingers back inside him, and Five can’t stop the way his legs begin to tremble, or the way he pushes back against the fingers haltingly. Again, Klaus doesn’t seem to notice as he presses deeper inside him, fingers nimble and confident and gentle.

His knuckles curl and brush against Five’s prostate, and he twitches, full bodied, letting out the most obscene moan. 

Klaus freezes. 

He knows. 

“I’m sorry,” Five hiccups, pushing himself back as hard as he can against Klaus’ chest. “I can’t he-- _ help  _ it.” 

He feels more than hears Klaus swallow, his adam's apple bobbing against the top of his head. “It’s -- it’s okay. It’s, uh, you know. Biology and stuff. Happens to the best of us.” 

Klaus shifts a fraction and Five groans again, his toes curling and Klaus hisses and stills once more.

Silence settles between them, heavy and suffocating, and Five’s face burns. He wants to apologize again, wants to get away from it and get more. Really -- Five doesn’t know what he wants. He just knows that with Klaus he doesn’t want to throw up. 

Klaus’ breath shakes Five’s hair as he huffs. “I could hurry and finish or--”

Five’s heartbeat pounds in his ears.

“I could help you with this, if you want me to?” Klaus offers, keeping very, very still.

He’s asking; does Five  _ want  _ Klaus to help him? Does he even want that to happen? Again? Does he want to let someone use him twice in one day?

Klaus isn’t using him, though. Five would be allowing him to give him what  _ he  _ wants, not what Klaus wants. 

“Okay,” Five whispers, voice still rough and sore from before. 

“Yeah?” Klaus’ fingers twitch inside him.

Five nods and presses down against Klaus. “Yeah.” 

Klaus hums, soft and affirmative, and pulls his fingers out. When they return three breach him this time; unlike the almost clinical way Klaus had been touching him before,  _ this  _ time when he pushes into Five it’s different. He pumps his fingers deep and slow, careful not to injure the already raw walls inside of Five, his long fingers experly reaching Five’s prostate with each upward push. 

Five moans and screws his eyes shut, his hands clamping down on Klaus’ arms as he trembles. The feeling is so different from what Diego had done to him; each push inside him is aided by the water they sit in, slow and careful, keeping his comfort at top priority. Diego had just used him as a cock sleeve, seeking his own finish, his own pleasure and amusement.

Klaus isn’t -- he’s doing this for Five, on his behest; if Five told him to, he knows Klaus would stop instantly, let him go and leave if that’s what Five wanted. 

That knowledge makes a shiver run down Five’s spine and he sighs, pressing back against Klaus’ hand, fucking himself down on his fingers. Klaus wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him up until Five is kneeling down in the tub; Klaus’ fingers stay inside him the whole way, wrapped behind him to push inside. 

He presses kiss after kiss across the expanse of Five’s shoulders, his back, humming encouragement with each and every noise Five makes. Five can’t help but whining, his mouth falling open on the noise as he rocks back against Klaus. 

Each stroke of his fingers inside him feels good,  _ too good,  _ filling him and pushing against his prostate; electric shocks of pleasure creep up from the base of his spine to where his neck and skull meet.

“Klaus,  _ mmh,”  _ He moans, his left hand slipping from Klaus’ bicep and back down into the water. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Klaus urges, “I’ve got you.” 

Five pants and his head falls back, laying on Klaus’ shoulder; his hand snakes down into the water and presses against Klaus’ stomach. It earns him a yelp that quickly morphs into a groan as Five’s fingers dip below the waistband of his underwear and grip his cock.

The first thing Five notices is that Klaus is  _ a lot  _ bigger than Diego. 

The second thing he notices is that Klaus’ cock is hard and he can feel pre-come slip out from the tip when he presses his thumb to it. 

“What are you--” Klaus tries to ask, but Five ignores him, pulls his cock out of his briefs with little fanfare or preamble. 

He strokes over it a few times, getting a feel for the shape -- it’s longer by quite a bit than Diego’s, but thinner, curving more sharply upwards at attention. Diego’s had been shorter, fatter, straight and blunt. Klaus’ is shaped like a banana.

The thought pulls a laugh out of his chest against his will and Klaus squeaks, his fingers slipping out of Five. 

“Hey!” Klaus barks, high and offended. “What’s funny about my dick!?” 

Five just giggles louder, unable to help himself, and he leans back against Klaus’ cock; it pushes between his cheeks and against his hole as Five angles it into place, not sinking down on it, but feeling it push against him.

“No, sorry,” Five tries to apologize, but it doesn’t come out very sincere. “Thinking of something else.”

“I’m doing a shit job if you’re thinking about something else with my dick in your hand!” Klaus’ voice is indignant, making Five chuckle just a little bit more. He doesn’t get to revel in the temporary levity; Klaus grips his waist and stills him when he tries to rock back against Klaus’ cock.

“Five,” He says, tone suddenly sobering. “Are you sure? After what happened--”

“I can still do shit like this, I didn’t get broken,” Five interrupts, voice too loud for the small room they’re in. He feels Klaus’ head shake behind him, and his fingers stroke gently against his side.

“I didn’t mean that. But you’re pretty banged up, I don’t want to hurt you.” 

Five’s stomach flips and rolls, his eyes stinging and face heating on a feeling he can’t entirely name. 

“You’re already doing better than -- yeah, yes. I’m sure.” Five tips his head back, glancing behind him. Klaus looks conflicted, but there’s heat there, in his eyes. “Please.” He adds for good measure. 

Klaus’ eyes scan over his face, taking stock, checking to make sure Five is  _ really  _ sure. He evidently finds whatever it is he’s looking for, his grip loosening on Five’s hip until Five can move freely again. 

Five takes no time in going for what he wants, pressing down against Klaus cock as he guides it inside himself; he sits down on it, moaning long and low as he sinks down inch by inch until his ass is flush with Klaus’ pelvis. 

His entire body is trembling, waves of pleasure -- and the slight press of pain at the back of his mind -- racking over his small frame, his hands clenching and unclenching wildly. Klaus hisses and bends over him, resting his head heavily on Five’s shoulder, his hands rubbing circles against his thighs, encouraging, reassuring. 

Five slides back up, the drag of Klaus’ cock inside him pulling a groan from his lips, before he rolls back onto it, sinking deep inside him once more. Five sets a meticulous, slow pace, fucking himself down onto Klaus’ cock. 

Water sloshes, waves rolling and hitting the edges of the tub, ripples forming from his movements. His breaths come in short, shaking intakes, as Klaus pants heavy against his shoulder. 

Biting his lip Five moans, his feet slipping across the bottom of the bath as he rocks back against Klaus.

_ “Uh,”  _ He grunts, eyes slipping closed for a moment.  _ “Uh,  _ fuck,  _ mmh.”  _

“Yeah?” Klaus laughs; polar opposite of the noise Diego had made -- malicious and cruel -- Klaus’ laugh is lighthearted and pleased. “Does that feel good, little Five?”

Five whines, reaching back and tangling his hand in Klaus’ scruffy, knotted hair.  _ “Yeah.” _ He cries, his cock leaking a steady stream of pre-come into the water now. With each downward stroke his cock bobs in the water, droplets of come floating away from him. 

Klaus’ hand trails over his side and to his stomach, just above his cock -- not touching, just resting near it, making Five’s skin tingle with anticipation. “That’s good, baby, I’m glad it feels good.” 

_ Baby. _

Five keens, drags Klaus’ face down, so close they can feel each other’s breath ghosting over their lips. His lips burn with want -- the urge to kiss Klaus overbearing. But.

He can’t. He can’t take that final step, can’t push his mouth to Klaus’ -- something stops him, a deep clench in his gut that sets off a full-body tremble. He settles on staring into Klaus’ eyes instead; they’re wide open and soft, bright overhead lights reflecting in them, and Five counts the speckles of blue that are scattered throughout his green-brown eyes. 

“You want me to make you feel better, baby?” Klaus’ hand slips down a little more, his fingers brushing just the head of Five’s leaking cock. “You wanna come?” 

Five nods his head frantically, gripping onto Klaus’ hair harder; “Yes, please,  _ please,  _ I--” He whines on a particularly deep thrust, his eyes slipping closed for a fraction of a moment before he forces himself to drag them open again, staring at Klaus, unable to look away.

“I  _ need  _ to,” He begs, his free hand slipping down, wrapping around Klaus’ wrist. He uses his hold on him to push his hand down, until Klaus’ fingers cover the expanse of his cock. 

Klaus makes a soft, pleased noise, and takes him in his hand in one fell swoop. “Of course, Five, my little Five, I can do that, baby. Let me take care of you, yeah?”

He pumps his fist, encompassing Five’s dick in his hand without even really trying; Five cries out and rocks down against him harder, his fingernails clawing across the skin of Klaus’ arm. He doesn’t seem to care -- really, Klaus doesn’t even flinch at the action, instead he just noses along Five’s cheek lovingly, like a cat. 

“Please,” Five wails, his mouth  _ aching  _ with the need to just -- “Klaus, _ please, _ can I -- I  _ want _ to--”

“Want to what, love?” Klaus probes, not unkindly, pressing a soft, too-chaste kiss right under the bandage on his face. 

Fuck it.

_ “Kiss  _ me,” Five hisses, desperate, tugging Klaus closer to him -- still though, he doesn’t make the move, doesn’t push his mouth onto Klaus’.

Klaus, though, does -- he smiles and surges forwards, pressing his much larger lips to Five’s smaller ones, covering him entirely. Pleasure and satisfaction threaten to strangle Five and he sobs into the kiss; he releases Klaus’ arm and hair, turning his upper body as far as he can. He snakes his arms around Klaus’ shoulders and pulls him close, holding him as tightly as he can. 

Klaus pushes his hands under Five’s thighs and lifts him up with ease, before bringing him back down; he takes over their movements when Five falters, unable to keep up with the pace. 

He doesn’t mind, this time, when Klaus does so. He just lets his mouth fall open when Klaus presses his tongue questioningly against his lips, his tongue slipping inside his mouth.

Still gently, Klaus increases the pace ever so slightly, fucking up into Five with as much care he can manage to give him. Like Five is precious to him and he can’t bear the thought of hurting him. 

Five whines and squeezes Klaus tighter, huffing a heavy breath as Klaus pulls away from the kiss; he doesn’t protest, though, as Klaus presses kisses across his face, his nose, reaching up to press one on his forehead. 

“You’re doing so good Five,” Klaus praises, thumbs rubbing circles on his thighs even as Klaus lifts him up again -- just to lower him back down onto his cock. 

Clawing at Klaus’ back, Five moans, pressing a kiss of his own to Klaus’ stubbled cheek. “Klaus,” He strains, draws the word out in time with his moans.

Klaus leans his head closer for Five to be able to kiss him better. “So good, darling, so good for me. You feel so good, you know that?”

_ “Klaus,”  _ Five begs, pressing kisses up his face frantically, trying -- and mostly failing -- to get across his desperation, his  _ need,  _ his heart bursting feelings he can’t name without some deep soul searching later. 

“Come on,” Klaus urges, his hand increasing, rapidly stroking over Five’s cock. The wet  _ shlick-shlick-shlick  _ noise nearly drowned out by the water sloshing around them. “Come for me, Fivey. I wanna make you happy. Wanna make you  _ feel  _ better.”

Klaus thrusts up into him harder, once, twice; he grips Five’s cock, squeezing it just slightly too close to painful, and Five is done.

He cries out, sobbing into Klaus’ ear, hiding his head into the crook of Klaus’ shoulder as tears stream down his face; his eyes are still locked below, peering over his cheekd down at where his cock disappears into Klaus’ closed fist. 

His toes curl and his back arches unnaturally as thick ropes of come shoot into the bath water, seemingly materializing out of Klaus empty fist.

Even before his body has fully stopped trembling from aftershocks Klaus releases him, raising Five up enough that his cock slips free from him. Klaus lowers him back down, until Five is sitting on the thickest part of Klaus’ thigh, his legs pooling between his legs. 

Klaus takes his own cock in hand and groans, jerking himself off frantically, his face pinched and almost looking like he was in pain; the noises he makes, though, tell otherwise, as he lets his head rest heavily against Five, their foreheads coming together as they both watch Klaus’ cock slip behind the grip of his fingers.

“Fuck,  _ Five,  _ you were so hot,” He moans, making a sort of aborted noise as he squeezes himself almost too tightly. 

Five wonders if he should try and help him -- the thought is short lived, Klaus not giving him a chance to act on it. He quickly comes, following after Five, his come shooting into the bathwater in far longer, thicker streaks than Five had. 

When he stops shaking Klaus groans and slumps, leaning back against the sloped back of the tub; Five allows himself to be pulled down with, Klaus’ arms wrapping around him once more. The weight of them is a comfort that Five is rapidly finding himself getting too familiar with. 

He allows himself to rest his head against Klaus’ shoulder, watching as his own hands curl into fists atop his chest. 

It’s oddly peaceful, laying there, and Five drifts off to sleep for the first time in far too many hours; Klaus’ arms holding him against his chest protectively lulling him into enough sense of security he can manage to do so. 

He can worry about how he most definitely needs to take some heavy antibiotics when he wakes up. 


End file.
